Saturday, August 25, 2012

Perilous Passions

How about a kiss from my very first published book, a romantic suspense, called Perilous Passions?

Cover blurb:
Feisty heiress Reilly Shea and by-the-book Deputy U. S. Marshal Hunt Ramsey are stranded together by an ice storm in Harmony Falls, New York. Hunt is pursuing a cop killer, but Reilly just wants time alone to grieve for her recently deceased uncle.

From experience, Reilly believes that men want her only for her wealth, while Hunt's past convinces him that love is a fairytale concocted by rich young women seeking distraction from their boring lives. Neither intends to be used again.

But as the killer stalks the ice-bound community, desire drives them into each others' arms. Finally Reilly's giving spirit and artistic lovemaking free Hunt from his jaded past, while his strength and protectiveness inspire Reilly's confidence in herself... and in him. Love eventually overcomes suspicion... leaving only a killer to stand in their way.

Reilly jumped back as Hunt cursed and leaped to his feet. He just caught his cell phone, but a coffee mug tumbled off the table, across his lap and shattered on the floor near his feet. Even in the moonlight, she could see the stain spreading across his trousers.

“Cold coffee,” he growled. “Damn it.”

Reilly worked hard not to laugh. She’d made him nervous all right. But when his sharp gaze focused on her, her amused sense of power faded. She felt suddenly like a kitten toying with a bird that boasted a big beak and razor sharp talons. If she wasn’t careful, she might find herself the feast instead of the feaster. No matter what her effect was on Hunt, his on her was apparently just as strong. And he was, she felt certain, much more experienced at this sort of thing than she was.

She backed slowly away from him. “Sorry.”

He swiped at the coffee staining his trousers and then the sharpness in his eyes intensified. Unsure if he meant to strangle her or kiss her, Reilly found herself rooted to the floor. Unable to move or speak, barely able to think beyond the want that swelled inside her, she stared at him. And waited.

The air between them, chilled by winter just moments before, now seemed ripe with tropical heat. His hands reached across that narrow space, gripped her upper arms and tugged her toward him.

“Damn me,” he whispered, just before his lips crashed down on hers.
Perilous Passions by Teri Thackston
Available in ebook and print

My publisher:
Amazon Kindle version:

Monday, August 20, 2012

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket?


This week's kiss comes from Cerise DeLand with IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET? Contemporary western, erotica with touch of romantic suspense.
A Sheriff, A Hot Gal and his gun.
What’s a girl to do when she has the hots for the local sheriff—and he’s playing it cool? Mae Montaine knows the man has a gun in his pocket and he’s always happy to see her.
 So why won’t he come over and see her sometime…for a date? A hug? A kiss? More?
 West Farraday yearns for the All-American knock-out who lives next door, but Mae’s got problems and secrets. He’d love to help her out…of her problems. And her clothes. Then into his bed.
When timing seems right, West makes his move. He’s happier than a colt in clover.
Mae’s skeptical they can make it as a couple. After all, town gossip says the good sheriff is hard on the ladies.
But when three bad coyotes invade Mae’s life, West tries to prove to her that a man who’s hard in the sack can be easy to love.

Intro to first kiss:
Here, Mae is telling her handsome neighbor, West about why she took on the job of raising her orphaned niece Emma and moving to Texas after the death of her sister and brother-in-law.

Excerpt: Copyright 2012, Cerise DeLand, All rights reserved.
Mae grabbed a breath to steady her thoughts and her hope that finally she might have breached West’s shell of formality. “I do. And I want to stay. Give Emma the life that Kyle and Lou wanted for her.”

“You know how extraordinary that is?” he asked.

“What? To give a child the normal life she deserves?”

“That, yes. But to give it to her like her parents designed it? When you had a life of your own? When you could have taken her back to Newark and raised her there?”

She gave a laugh of derision. I owe it to her. I failed her mother when she needed me. I won’t fail Emma. “You haven’t been to Newark lately, have you?”

“I’ve flown in and out on my way to Manhattan to take in Broadway shows.”

“Wow.” His revelation shocked her from her morbid view of her own shortcomings. Now Mae viewed him through a new kaleidoscope of possibilities. He was more than the local sheriff, the town hunk, the ex-Marine who made all the ladies swoon. He lived in a bigger world than Winton, Texas. Bigger even than the desert sands of the Middle East and the skyscrapers of New York. “The things you don’t know about people.”

“Tell me.”

His sculpted lips were parted, eager to know more. His eyes were soft with concern, persuading her that he really did want to hear her rationale for coming here and staying here.

“Tell me,” he urged her on a murmur.

“I did have a life, if you want to call it that. I lived alone. Had a nice condo in a modern high rise. I had a solid job with a national accounting firm on Wall Street and a few promotions that were lucrative, if not fun. I had friends, a few whom I really loved and still do. I went to Broadway shows.” She gave him a nod and he responded with his own, acknowledging their mutual interest. “I did yoga, ran a few 5K races, went to Vegas with the girls now and then for the booze and the slots and the sights.”

“No dates?”

“A few.”

“No men who stayed?”

Mae noticed he drew nearer. “Not for long.”

“Why?” He was almost whispering as he braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, boxing her in, driving the air from her lungs.

“I told them to leave.”


“They liked my looks. Didn’t bother to learn what was in my brain.”

“They bored you?” he asked with a lopsided smile and raised brows.

“I want to be valued for more than my measurements.”

“Then I’ll invite you to fly to New York with me. Pick a weekend.” He drifted closer, his handsome, chiseled mouth such a warm temptation. “A show.”

A room with you? Could I be so lucky? “What’s playing?”

“Whatever you choose.” Another fraction of an inch and his lips would be on hers.

She swallowed, her fingers itching to wrap around his biceps and draw him against her. “That’s an offer I hate to refuse.”

“Then don’t.” He brushed his lips on hers, his eyes falling closed in the dreamiest way.

Could he want her that much? For more than one night? His big hands cupped her shoulders and pulled her to him. Heavenly warmth infused her. “We’ll have to take Emma.”

“We can hire a sitter from the hotel for the play.”

“They’re good? The sitters?” she asked, her own eyes fluttering in the assault of his little kisses, light as the touch of butterflies’ wings to her parted lips.

“The sheriff down in DeWitt County told me that he and his wife hired one not too long ago. He told me they’re vetted. Bonded.” His smile was pure male seduction. “Come with me, Mae.”

The velvet intonation of his deep bass voice was an invitation to more than a weekend in New York, and she knew it.

She grinned broadly, humbled but also tickled by this compliment. In the process, her torso brushed his. “I could say you’re being very forward.”

He ran his big, warm hands up her arms to her shoulders and her throat to cup her face. His generous mouth teased her with a lush kiss and she sighed into him. “You could tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.” She ran her hands up his chest. “You could tell me to stop.”

“Can’t,” he gruffed. “I want this too much.”

“You’ve never let me see that you were interested in me until now.”

“I wanted to be careful with you. Not show you too much and have you run away.” He hugged her as if he were a big warm bear.

She pressed against him, his rock wall body, his raging heat, and then she wound her arms around those incomparable broad shoulders and sank her fingers into his rich, silken hair. Against her mound, she felt his steely cock. “You’ve shown me enough for me to see that this,” she cooed as she undulated against his very impressive package, “is no gun in your pocket.”

Snorting, he chuckled at the ceiling as if he asked heaven above for mercy, then he crushed her against him, chest to breasts, belly to belly and cock to pussy. “Every inch of me is happy to be here.”

Her channel gushed. Her breasts tingled. “So don’t you think you’d better really kiss me?”

He clasped one hand over her ass to halt her moves. “Once I start, I may not stop.”

“Oh, Sheriff. Can this East Coast gal give you a cowgirl’s ‘hell, yeah’?”

Available at

Monday, August 13, 2012

Steam and Sorcery

Whether or not you’ve read steam punk, you are sure to enjoy Steam & Sorcery (Gaslight Chronicles #1) by Cindy Spencer Pape. This novel is a Winner of the 2012 EPIC Award.

Available from Carina Press

Sir Merrick Hadrian hunts monsters, both human and supernatural. A Knight of the Order of the Round Table, his use of magick and the technologies of steam power have made him both respected and feared. But his considerable skills are useless in the face of his greatest challenge, guardianship of five unusual children. At a loss, Merrick enlists the aid of a governess.

Miss Caroline Bristol is reluctant to work for a bachelor but she needs a position, and these former street children touch her heart. While she tends to break any mechanical device she touches, it never occurs to her that she might be something more than human. All she knows is that Merrick is the most dangerously attractive man she’s ever met—and out of reach for a mere governess.

When conspiracy threatens to blur the distinction between humans and monsters, Caroline and Merrick must join forces, and the fate of humanity hinges upon their combined skills of steam and sorcery…

Kiss Excerpt: PG-13

“Fascinating.” Her intent, intelligent expression bore out her words. “Now how does that relate to this current problem with vampyres?”

To his own surprise, he told her. Everything.About his father’s death and his own initiation at the age of twenty-two, and his training with Sir William. Even up to the missing Babbage engine cards and his search for a traitor within the Order. Throughout his recitation, she didn’t say a word, though her brilliant green eyes grew round with horror.

“Is there any way I can help?” Somehow he’d known those would be the first words out of her mouth.

He shook his head. “Just watch over the children. That’s more than enough—more than I have any right to ask.”

Her chin set stubbornly as she stared him down. “Merrick, I’ve seen a great deal of the worst of human behavior. I would never voluntarily leave any child, even ones more competent in some ways than myself—to face that kind of evil alone.”

He gave in to the urge to reach out and touch her uninjured hand. “I’ve told you my story, Caro. I would know yours, beyond that you’re from Somerset, illegitimate and part leannansidhe. How did you go from being a gently bred lady to a governess?”

She shrugged. “As I’ve said before, it’s not an unusual tale. My mother was the daughter of a peer. Her father loved her dearly and didn’t disown her when she fell pregnant with no husband in sight. She continued to run his household, and he doted on the pair of us until the day he died. Unfortunately, he was careless when it came to his legal affairs, and he didn’t specify our continued subsistence in his will. His lordship, my uncle, wasn’t inclined to support his disgraced sister and her offspring, so out we went, with little more than the clothes on our backs. My mother…broke, somehow. Her mind was never altogether sound again. So it fell to me to support the pair of us—first at a small village school, then as a private instructor after my mother died.”

“And you were how old?” He’d like to find her uncle and throttle the man.


He barely suppressed a growl. “And which peer of our realm is your relative? It occurs to me I may know the man—though I can’t think of one with the surname Bristol.”

She bit her lip, then admitted, “I took the name Bristol from the nearest city to the village where I taught. It’s not my real name.”

“Caro—who is he?”

“No.” She met his gaze, determination evident in hers. Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, she turned her hand in his, squeezing tightly. “I’m not going to tell you, Sir Merrick. Please just let it go.”

He didn’t have it in him to deny her—not while she lay there, vulnerable. But one of these days he was going to find out and make the bastard pay. He reached out and cradled her face in his free hand. “Caro—” Even he didn’t know what he’d been about to say. He couldn’t fight the urge to see if she tasted as good as she looked. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away, he leaned forward and lowered his lips to hers.

The barest brush of skin against skin burned like an electrical shock. This wasn’t faery magick or a Knight’s power, but the raw, elemental earth magick of male and female. He kissed her again, this time with enough pressure to actually call it a kiss. It still wasn’t enough. Far from rebuffing him, Caro clutched his head with her good hand, her fingers spearing through his hair to hold him closer.


Merrick jumped back from Caro and she recoiled back against the headboard, her face flaming a vibrant pink. They both turned guilty faces toward the bedroom door.

Steam and Sorcery is available from Carina Press

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Final Words is one of my favorite paranormal romance. Here's a romantic scene from the book:

She opened her eyes and caught her breath. Jason stood beside her, one shoulder leaning against the column in imitation of her stance. A black string tie brought an air of casualness to his black suit and stark white shirt. That warm breeze ruffled his thick hair and carried his scent to her again.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

Broad shoulders, a sexy tilt of his lips, that silky male voice… Emma’s heart muscle seemed to tighten like a fist.

“I thought you might like to know we found the gun that killed Amalia Campanero,” he said.

“That’s…great.” Clearing her throat, she shifted her weight so that she stood a little straighter. Light fell more evenly over his lean face and she was startled by the sharpness in his expression. The intensity of his gaze made heart beat faster.

“Were you able to connect it to her brother?” she asked.

“We matched four fingerprints from the gun to him. And we found a shirt in the dumpster with the gun. It has bloodstains that match Amalia’s blood along with male sweat that should match Campanero’s DNA. There was a footprint too, that matched the shoes he was wearing when we arrested him. But that’s just icing on the cake. We’ve formally charged him with murder.”

Relief bolted through her. Amalia Campanero would get her justice. “I’m glad.”

He stood silent for another moment, his gaze locked with hers. “You are glad, aren’t you?” he murmured. “For the victim’s sake.”

Emma swallowed. “Of course.”

Shifting away from the column, Jason straightened so that he stood over her. Gold shards glittered in his eyes as he looked down at her dress. His expression was different now, not so much sharp as it was hungry. And it stirred an answering hunger in her.

Apparently he was thinking, as she had been, about that near kiss on the beach last night. Emma was glad that he hadn’t taken advantage of her vulnerability at the time. She was glad she still had something to look forward to.

“There’s only one word to describe how you look tonight, Dr. St. Clair,” he finally, quietly, said.

Emma was almost afraid to breathe. “What word is that?”

His gaze caressed the length of her body. “Hot.”

The word echoed its own definition through her body. Or maybe the heat in his eyes sent that breath of warmth coursing through her. Like smoke, it curled around her inner organs until she feared she might melt.

He stepped in closer. His left hand touched her right hip. She stared up at his mouth, so close to her own that his breath stroked her flesh. Some distant part of her mind realized they were swaying together in time to the music.

“Dance with me,” he whispered and before she could think, his hands settled on her waist and he pulled her close.

He turned her away from the column and the lights that spilled from the ballroom. Emma knew that other couples strolled or danced across the stone floor but she saw only Jason. Saw the desire in his eyes, felt the possessive grip as his arm slid around her waist. And the way their bodies moved so perfectly together… She hadn’t been aware of so much in a long time. She hadn’t felt so right in even longer. Heart pounding, she eased closer to him.

Desire sparked off the gold in Jason’s eyes. He lifted her right hand and placed it against his neck, then slid his hand down her bare arm, tickling lightly along a path to her waist. That hand slipped around to join his right. No longer a simple dance, this was a floating embrace. Drawing her closer still, Jason lowered his head. Emma expected his kiss and her eyelids flickered downward. She didn’t care any more whether or not she should give in to what she wanted. Some primal part of her insisted that wanting had its place. This place. Right now.

She lifted her face and his mouth found hers. Soft at first and yet powerful. Hungry.

Pleasure speared her with each movement of his lips and she pressed closer, wanting more, needing more, demanding more as she’d never done before tonight. She shifted both of her hands around under his jacket to touch the back of his white shirt. Damp heat seeped through the cloth. His hands moved too, down her back to her hips and around to cup her bottom, to hold her closer against his—

Nearby, a woman coughed with mock delicacy. Jason growled low in his throat and lifted his lips from Emma’s even as he drew his hand upward.

“Good evening, Ms. Zamora,” he said gruffly.

Find out what leads up this romantic scene.Final Words by Teri Thackston, available at my publisher:
and at Amazon
or Barnes and Noble

Monday, August 6, 2012

The Siren's Song

Welcome to Jennifer Bray-Weber, one of the finest writers to sail the seven...I mean, to put pen put fingertips to keyboard!

The Siren’s Song Blurb:

Pirate captain Thayer Drake lures ships onto reefs for plunder, and business is lucrative. Yet, saving a lass from drowning after her ship wrecks becomes more than he bargained for when the crazy wench dives back into the raging sea for her blasted purse.

Tavern songstress Gilly McCoy, penniless and fleeing from the man who murdered her lover, stowed away on the doomed ship. Now at Drake's mercy, Gilly must earn her passage by performing for the captain. And that is not all: she must also kiss the captain at every ring of the ship's bell. But she discovers kissing the handsome rogue is not entirely a bad bargain...

Drake is intrigued by the beauty, but there is no room in his black heart for a woman. He has demons that he drinks nightly to forget. Meanwhile, Gilly has her own secrets to keep--including why her purse is more valuable to her than her life...

The Kissing Scene:

The ship’s bell struck and Gilly counted the rings. It was time to pay her debt to the captain. She’d been tallying the bells as they struck every half hour all throughout the watch. Two bells. Her chest tightened. Mixed emotions churned in her stomach. Four bells. She wanted to kiss him, didn’t she? Of course she did. Six bells. Was she supposed to go to him? Where would he be waiting? In his cabin? She glanced at Willie and Henri. They didn’t seem to know of her quandary. She couldn’t ask them for an opinion. How mortifying to think of it. Seven bells. Would she be good at it, good enough for him? How would she compare to others he had kissed? Eight bells. Lord help her, she surely was going to faint.

Before the final peal of the bell faded into the winds, Captain Drake appeared at the top of the ladder. Time slowed as he glided toward her. She slid off her perch and met him halfway.

“Eight bells, milady.”

“I’m ready,” she said. Closing her eyes, she puckered, waiting for his lips to descend upon her. Waiting to inhale his delicious musk. Waiting for his hands to roam across her back and his fingers to thread through her hair. Waiting. Why hadn’t he kissed her yet?

“What’s the lass doin’?” Henri asked. “Is she alright?”

“Maybe the heat’s done gotten to her,” Willie answered.

She popped open one eye. Gone was the captain’s mask of steely austerity. His amusement beamed brighter than the unforgiving sun. The heat couldn’t compare to her swill of embarrassment. Sweat beaded on her brow and she wished with all her heart she could disappear. Why didn’t he kiss her? How idiotic she must look. She huffed, angry now. Mustering up a scrap of dignity, she confronted the cur.

“What’s wrong? Why won’t you kiss me?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Have you gone back on our accord?”

His smug laugh indicated he had not. “I never renege on a deal, Miss McCoy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have misinterpreted the terms. Our agreement stated that you kiss me. Not the other way around.”

“Oh.” Won’t death spare me this humiliation?

She was helpless. She had never kissed a man, only been kissed. This changed everything. It simply was not proper. Come now, Gilly. You haven’t been proper since the day Hyde laid eyes upon you. And besides, you want to kiss him.

“All right, Captain Drake. I shall play by your rules.”

She rose to her tiptoes and, quick as a rabbit dashing into a briar patch, she pecked him on his mouth.

“There,” she said. “It’s done. I kissed you.” She grinned a self-satisfied smile. “Come back at the next eight bells. I shall be ready.”

“Uh-uh. Not quite, lass. That’s not at all how I want you to kiss me.”

“A kiss is a kiss.”

“Nay, lass. That is how you kiss a codfish.”

She gasped and her hand flew to her bosom at the insult. “And just how am I supposed to kiss you, Captain? There were no stipulations on the manner of kiss.”

“Kiss me as you did last night.”

She poked him in his chest. “You kissed me.”

“At first, yes. But then you lost your chaste modesty and your voracious appetite took over.”

If she could get her hands on his cutlass, she would end her suffering. Gilly glanced over her shoulder. Both Henri and Willie quickly, but not quickly enough, became occupied, pretending miserably not to have been listening in on their exchange. Henri fiddled with his vest pocket and Willie tapped at the compass he kept fixed to his wheel.

“You need not let shamefulness get the better of you, Miss McCoy. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” Captain Drake said.

She frowned. He did not make things any easier by calling her on her discomfiture.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

What a wicked, wicked man. The only way to wipe that smirk from his face was to give him the best kiss he ever had in his wretched life.

Gilly grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and smothered his lips. Long and hard, she pressed against him. He tensed under her grip. His arms reached out, as if to hold her. But he didn’t. Nevertheless, she felt his smile. And that pleased her.

She broke free of him. Excitement coursed through her veins. Liberation was hers. She could do that again. Eight more times, in fact.

“’Twas a very nice start,” he said. “Now don’t look so troubled. I am happy with your kiss. It is my hope that you will work yourself up to last night’s performance.”

Buy Links:

Carina Press:

Barnes & Noble: